Summer 2002 • Vol. XXIV No. 3/4 Fiction |

Now That I’m Back

Mama's always telling people what I can and cannot do. "He can get that for himself, Esme! Leave him be!" she hisses. Me, reaching up for Whirlies on a supermarket shelf. The Cheerios are too high up, so I've plumped for the generics down below. I'd rather not have Mama humiliated in front of Esme Severin, née Duchamp. We steer away from cereals and trundle down the aisle. Esme, Mama powering the trolley, me in my own set of wheels. "Louis, will you go get two tinned tomatoes? I forgot." She says this nonchalantly, head turned the other way as if she's got weightier matters on her mind. If her friend weren't here she'd have got them herself. Esme doesn't usually come with us, so Mama's showing off today. "Praise Jehovah!" Esme says, regarding me. "Young man so independent." She thinks I'm out of earshot, but I can hear every word. "Amen!" Mama sighs. "Amen." Esme is Mama's friend from Saint Lucia, though they met in church just up the road. She's an angel right

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.